by Norah Wilson
She sighed. “Okay, both of you — out. Now. And Maryanne, please show Detective Walker in.”
“Not necessary.” The voice was Craig Walker’s, and it came from her open door. “I showed myself in. I was beginning to get concerned you might rabbit on me.”
Oh, God, had he heard all of that? She lifted her chin, aiming for dignity. “Rabbit? Is that your usual experience with a woman on the morning after, Detective?”
“Only with you.” He glanced pointedly at the other occupants of the room.
Maryanne cleared her throat. “Well, then, I’ll just get back to my post.” Eyes wide, she sidled past Craig.
“And I’ll just go next door to my office and press a drinking glass to the wall.”
“Bradley!”
“What? I’m just making a point.”
“Okay, point taken. We’ll take this outside the office.” She turned to Craig. “Detective.”
He stepped back. “After you.”
“My car or yours?” he asked when they reached the parking lot.
His, she deduced, was a slightly muscular looking but spacious Ford Taurus. Hers was a tiny hybrid. They’d be in each other’s laps in her car. “Yours.”
He led the way to his car, opening the door for her. She slipped inside and waited for him to join her.
“Look, Craig,” she said, as soon as he’d slipped behind the wheel. “I’m really sorry about this morning. I guess I was a little stunned when Dr. Woodbridge dropped his bombshell. His second bombshell.”
“So am I. Sorry about this morning, I mean. I shouldn’t have stormed off like that. But before we go there, I gotta ask — what’s with telling everyone back there? I thought you were worried about keeping the whole thing under wraps.”
She blushed to the roots of her hair. “I didn’t exactly tell anyone. Brad figured it out. I mean, not that I’d spent the night with you, specifically, but that I’d spent a long night with someone. Then Maryanne came in at that exact moment and announced that you were here to see me. I guess I freaked a little, and Brad put two and two together.”
His mouth tightened. “I’m sorry. I wouldn’t have come here to your office if I’d thought it would cause you further embarrassment.”
She grimaced. “I’m not embarrassed. Well, sort of, but just because I’m not accustomed to my sex life coming up for discussion at the office. It’s more—”
“You were afraid it would get around,” he finished for her. “That I’d brag to the guys at the cop shop and you’d lose credibility. That ultimately, it would adversely affect your ability to defend your clients.” He turned away to look straight ahead out the windscreen. “I understand. Hell, I can’t even work up any righteous indignation anymore. Because to be honest, if I were ten years younger and stupider, I probably would have shot my mouth off first chance I got. But I haven’t and I won’t. But none of that alters the fact that I shouldn’t have gone off on you like that.”
“Don’t apologize.” She looked down at her hands, clasped in her lap. “You were right. I wouldn’t have called you if I hadn’t thought I was dying. That’s the bald truth of it. You have every right to be angry.”
“Maybe,” he agreed. “But that’s only half the reason I was angry.”
She shot a look at him, but he was still facing forward. “And the other reason?”
He turned to face her, his blue eyes fiercely intent. “I was mad because I let my mind go down that road. I let myself imagine how I’d feel if you really did have a brain tumor, if you really were dying. How it would feel to lose you so quickly after you made me love you.”
Adrenaline ripped through her nervous system, terminating in an almost painful jolt in her fingertips, like a bolt of electricity. “What?”
He carried on, as though he hadn’t heard her.
“Christ, I felt like I’d stepped out onto a fucking ledge at twenty stories, and everything was whirling underneath me. I lashed out. I’m sorry.”
“You can’t.”
“Can’t what?”
“Love me!” God, what possessed him to say that? “Craig, we don’t even know one another.”
“I’d say we know each other better than some couples ever do.”
She blushed. “That was sex.”
His eyes glinted. “It sure as hell was. But sex like that … Nita, that doesn’t just happen between strangers. And I’ve had enough sex with beautiful strangers over the past fifteen years to know the difference. It takes a certain level of trust. It takes an intuitive knowledge of the other.”
“That’s crazy! We hadn’t even had a date prior to jumping in bed.”
“What have we doing the past three years but getting to know each other? We’ve been measuring each other over these cases. Searching for each other’s weaknesses, admiring strengths.”
“But I do that with everyone I put on the stand.”
“Yeah, but you don’t look at anyone else the way you look at me. You don’t think about anyone else the way you think about me. And thank God, you didn’t call anyone else when you thought you were dying and needed to grab at life. You called me, dammit. Me.”
Nita did the only thing she could do. She burst into tears.
Chapter 7
Craig’s heart contracted as he watched the tears slide soundlessly down her cheeks.
“Christ, I’m sorry, Nita. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”
“I’m just tired,” she said.
Shit. Of course she was tired. “Let me take you home.”
“I really should go back in there.” She dabbed at her eyes with a tissue she pulled out of her jacket pocket.
“No one will expect you back today. Besides, I can’t have you go in there looking like you went three rounds with a bully. Knopfler would kick my ass.”
She snorted. “Yeah, like that could happen.”
“Let me take you home,” he pressed. “I won’t even stay if you don’t want me to. You need to catch up on your sleep.”
She pulled down the sun visor on her side of the car and checked out her reflection. “Ugh.” She flipped the visor back into place. “Okay, take me home.”
Before she could change her mind, he started the car and eased out of the parking lot. They didn’t speak for the ten-minute trip downtown. Craig eased the car to the curb in front of her brownstone.
“Thank you,” she said.
Before he could stop it, the question was out: “Can I come in?”
She gazed at him with eyes that still glistened more than they should.
“I’m not looking for sex,” he said quickly. “I just want to make you dinner while you shower and make sure you go to bed as soon as you’ve eaten.”
Her eyes widened. “You want to mother me?”
Jesus, she was beautiful, puffy eyes, blotchy face and all. “I want to take care of you. If you get fed up with me, you can tell me to leave and I’ll go. You have my word on that.”
He saw the struggle plainly on her face. The disciplined career woman in her was clearly telling her to send him on his way. The practical, safe side of her personality was no doubt advising her similarly. But the courageously passionate woman she’d showed him last night prevailed.
“Can you make macaroni and cheese?”
Ah, the ultimate comfort food. “The cheesiest.”
“Okay, come on up.”
Once inside, he told her to take her time, since the mac and cheese would take an hour from scratch, and she did. Clearly, she’d put the time to good use. When she finally showed herself in the kitchen again, her face bore no evidence of her earlier tears. And this despite the fact she wore no makeup. Or at least, nothing he could discern.
“You look great,” he said, pulling out a chair for her at one of the places he’d set at the granite-topped island. He’d thought about setting the dining room table and lighting some low candles, but figured that would smack of romance and seduction, which would only put her on the defensive. What he had in mind ton
ight was a seduction of an entirely different kind. And the warm kitchen was just the spot for it.
“I made tea,” he said.
“Really?” He gaze flew to the counter where her teapot sat. “Herbal or black?”
“Some herbal stuff I found. Since the objective is to pack you off to sleep, I didn’t figure you needed the caffeine. But I can make black tea if you’d like….”
“No, that’s perfect.”
“Why don’t you pour for both of us, then, while I get supper out of the oven.”
While she poured the tea, he removed the bubbling macaroni from the oven and dished up two servings.
She wasted no time tasting hers. “Oh, God, this is heavenly! I can’t remember the last time I made this from scratch. I usually resort to the boxed stuff for my fix.”
“Me, too, but once in a while I like to make the real thing. When I left for college, I made my mother teach me how to make it so I could feel a little bit closer to home.”
She took the bait. “College, huh? Where’d you go, and what did you study.”
An hour later, they’d both had seconds of both macaroni and tea. And they each knew a lot more about the other than they had when they’d sat down.
When he caught Nita yawning, he apologized. “God, look at me keeping you up. You should be in bed already. I’ll just stick these dishes in the dishwasher and take off so you can lock up after me.”
He gathered up the dishes and turned toward the dishwasher.
“Craig?”
He put the dishes down and turned back, his face scrupulously blank. “Yeah?”
“I’m sorry I made this so … weird.” She lifted a shoulder in an awkward shrug. “I called you, then I jumped on you, and we had last night, and now it’s all backwards.”
“I’m not sorry,” he said roughly. “Because if it hadn’t happened like that, it probably wouldn’t have happened at all. The only thing that could make me sorry is if I do something now to blow it. Which is why I think I should leave.”
She smiled. “You’re not blowing it.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “No?”
“No.” Her face sobered. “Did you mean it earlier? About … you know … feeling like maybe you were falling in love with me?”
“Every word of it.”
She frowned. “How can that be?”
“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “It just is. From the moment I first saw your face, I knew you were potential trouble. The kind of trouble I couldn’t stay away from. And when you made it clear you were off limits….”
“You know why I did that. I just couldn’t risk getting involved with you. I was afraid it would hurt my practice, my reputation. Maybe even hurt my clients.”
“How about now?” He leaned back against the counter. “Are you still afraid that a relationship with me will harm your law practice?”
“I don’t know. I mean, I don’t believe you’d say or do anything to harm me, but—”
“What if we were married?”
***
“Married?” Nita’s heart rate, which was already tripping along at a pretty good clip considering the subject matter of their discussion, leapt into hyper drive.
“Okay, engaged and then married,” he allowed. “We could do that, at least, in the right order.”
Engaged. Married.
The words bounced around inside her brain. And he was looking at her as though what he’d said were perfectly logical and reasonable. Had he lost his mind?
“But we’re not even dating.”
“Okay, we can date for a while, then get engaged and married. How’s a six month time table sound?”
She blinked. “Let me get this straight — you’re prepared to marry me so we can continue to have sex?”
“No.”
“But you just said—”
“I want to marry you because you’re the one, Nita. Period.” He pinned her with his gaze, fierce and outrageously blue. “I’ve never felt like this before. I want to lie beside you and just listen to you breathe. When I’ve had a shitty day, I want to come home to you and lay my head in your lap and feel your hands on my face. And when you’ve had a shitty day and it feels like one more straw is gonna break your back, I want to be there to carry the load for you. I want you to tell me your darkest fears, and be able to tell you mine.”
“My God, Craig.” He meant it. He really meant it. Yearning twisted in her gut, sharp and piercing.
“Nita, honey, I’ve never been able to see my future — our future — so clearly. Can’t you see it, too? Just a glimmer?”
She could see it. All too easily. But could she have it? She swallowed. “My father died of a brain tumor at the age of 49.”
His brow furrowed. “I’m sorry. That’s way too young. But how is that significant?”
“What if it’s hereditary?” Suddenly, the fear she’d felt yesterday when Dr. Woodbridge told her she had a brain tumor swelled up again, threatening to spill out in tears. “What if I have a predisposition to the same thing?”
A muscle leapt in his jaw. “Then all the more reason to get on with this courtship, don’t you think?”
Oh, Lord, he was wearing her down. Was she really on the verge of accepting his fast track dating/engagement/marriage proposal? Was she brave enough to seize what he offered?
She gnawed the inside of her lip a moment. “What about work?”
“Easy. They’ve been wanting to rotate me out of major crime and into criminal intelligence for two years now. I’ve been holding them off because I wasn’t ready to quit locking horns with you. I just have to tell the brass I’m ready for a transfer.”
She sucked in a breath. He’d given up a sexier, higher profile assignment to stay in contact with her? A hostile her. “You seriously did that?”
“I did. Of course, I gave them completely bogus reasons. They’d have bounced me out of there faster than you can say double chocolate donut if they’d known the truth.”
She blinked rapidly. “What about kids?”
“As in us having them?”
She nodded.
“I’d like a couple, but we’re not talking about making my body into an incubator. Your body, your call. But if you do want them, I’d happily split the parental leave with you.”
“You would not! You’d never live it down with your colleagues, or your employer for that matter.”
“My employer wouldn’t like it, no, but they’re bound by statute. They’d have no choice. And they wouldn’t dare take their frustration out on me, because my kick-ass lawyer wife would bring a harassment charge on my behalf.”
“Your wife, huh?”
“Well, I certainly hope you’re my wife by the time I need that parental leave,” he said mildly. “We might have done a few things out of order, but that’s one thing I’m old fashioned enough to want to do right.”
She sobered. “Speaking of old-fashioned, I expect fidelity in a partner.”
“Good. Because so do I. Even when I’m being a total ass, which I’m told I can be from time to time.” He cocked his head to the side. “Did I mention that I’m crazy about you? Yes, I think I did. And we’ve already demonstrated sexual compatibility….”
She laughed. “You just never let up, do you?”
“Not when I can see my opponent is weakening. You are weakening, right?”
She groaned. “God help me, yes. I’m weakening.”
His eyes caught fire. “You’ll marry me?”
“I’ll date you,” she clarified. “I can’t agree to marry a man when I don’t even know if he snores. Or leaves the cap off the toothpaste, or his underwear on the floor.”
“Don’t know, no and no. But fair enough.”
Omigod, she’d done it. She’d just committed to a serious relationship with Detective Craig Walker.
So, what was he doing still lounging there against her kitchen counter?
“Craig?”
“Yeah?”
“Aren’t you goi
ng to … I don’t know … kiss me or something, to seal the deal?”
“Thank you, God!” He was there in a flash, pulling her into a crushing bear hug. “I’ve been gripping the edge of that damned countertop all this while to remind myself to give you space. I think my fingernails left marks in the granite.”
She pulled back to look up at his face, touched by his consideration. “I appreciate your restraint.” She slid her arms around his neck and pressed her breasts against his chest. “But no need for it now.”
She felt the shudder that passed through him, which made his next words all the more remarkable.
“There’s every need for it.” He pulled back. “You need sleep, baby. I can’t have you go back to work tomorrow even more exhausted than you were today.”
She’d known he had a strong protective instinct when it came to women and children; she’d seen in on display on the witness stand many times. But she had no intention of being denied for her own good.
“You’re right,” she said, lowering her gaze lest he see what she planned. “But won’t you lie down with me? I have a feeling that when I wake up, I’m going to need some concrete persuasion that this really happened.”
“Now that I can do.”
He tipped her chin up and kissed her, his lips incredibly soft and sweet on hers, his big hand impossibly tender. She grasped his face in both hands and kissed him back, then squeaked as he swept her up into his arms.
“Bedtime.”
A moment later, he lay on her bed, fully clothed, on top of the covers while she peeled off her clothes. “Aren’t you going to undress?”
“Better not.”
She stifled a smile at the gruffness of those two words.
“Suit yourself.” She walked naked to her dresser and found the skimpiest piece of nightwear she owned, a spaghetti-strapped, gauzy scrap of a nightdress she kept to sleep in when the heat waves of August struck the city. She pulled it over her head, shivering as the sheer cotton batiste settled over her curves. It hit her thighs just below hip level. His gaze slid down her body, making her skin tingle just as the brush of the material had.
She let her own gaze skate over his body, fixing on the growing bulge in the front of his pants. “Oh, my.”